"EMPIRE OF THE MEGALOBLATTA"

about the Battle of Warsaw (1920) and the wider Polish-Soviet war (1919-1921), from which Poland emerged victorious against all odds, opposing an invading Soviet army trying to ignite further revolutions of Bolshevism in Central Europe.

grotesque Megaloblatta
yawn wide their beast mouths
beneath Albatross wings
deploying ootheca ordnance   
to burst and pest the lands

red roaches laugh in sardonic chortles,
sweating in misplaced jubilant stupor,
the foul-faced arrogancy of the elite –
a false victory, too early a cashed check :
the downfall of the Soviets reeks the disgrace of Bravado !

human dwellings are torn asunder !
penetrated by the horrifying ovipositors
of the intruding Megaloblatta :
an army of disillusioned peasants
commanded by idealists in diamond palaces

once the footstool of the Mongols ! –
the ghosts of Batu Khan haunt the Muscovite empire :
the abused became the abuser !

a cacophony of immense stridulation
spreads vile Dictyopteraic noise
in echoes across the Polesian fields  
like colossal waves of pressure
trying to ignite, by way of Warszawa,
the false revolution of but a yet new elite
vindicating their crimes not with supremacy and imperialism
but in self-denial, in the name of Justice – even worse !

the Soviets erected their castle of lies on the morass…

Muscovite arrogance is a national disease,
an endless historical protraction of the same old folly :
 
"dullard cousin of the Kreml ! unfortunate Ruthenian mutation ! "

"weak Catholic breed ! slut of the Italians and slave to the Teutons !"

are they not taught by history
to accredit the Poles with, if not the greatness of the Russian Empire,
then at least some manner of military impression ?

alas – ignore, Sarmatian eagles ! again, shall the hooves thunder !

form in your foaming mouths a glob of spit
for the Mongol-Russian Socialist Khanate !
hold high your lance, mount the steed again !
strap your wooden feathers to your back, Proud Hussar !

shredded flesh-parts clog the Socialist machine
as pinions of fowl are devoured
by a starving peasant soldiery

the Horde is apparently not so Golden anymore...

thousands of bodies are scattered across the field

but here are no Megaloblatta ! –
anywhere, there are no cockroaches :
here are just boys and young men
rotting putridly in swampy lowland autumn,
futile in their attempts, coerced or otherwise,
to boast further the riches and exploits
of the ever-fattening Marxist master

these boys are no Megaloblatta !

the true insect hides amongst the bedbugs and silverfish
in the golden palaces of Muscovy

here is just death, death and death –
the red-white-draped boys are united
with the Bolshevik enemy in trenches
in a tragic death of heroes both willing and not,
now resting their endless peace
beneath the war syzygy

slaughtered amongst each-other in fanatical pursuits of idealism

amber-colored blood of martyrs
spill as honey on the warred fields

the bayonets are still in their dead flesh

the hooves of stallions crush the bones in retreat
but they soon collapse and break their legs in the uneven,
battle-punished landscape

the dismembered bodies of the Soviet soldiery
drift in the foam of the Vistula :
the glory of the modern-day Hussars at Komarów
will forever be observed
by the Polish spirit and Nation !